


the wettest vomit fic in the world

by aisu10



Category: Lawless (2012)
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Vomiting, thats literally it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/pseuds/aisu10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cricket chugs some bad moonshine and You Know What Comes Next</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wettest vomit fic in the world

**Author's Note:**

> idk i rewatched lawless

"cricket, i think it’s time we had ourselves a little celebration! get out the good stuff."   
  
it's the middle of the night and the shop's empty except for the two triumphant best friends. their first big gig was a success and if things keep going the way they're going, they're gonna be rich real soon. cricket laughs.   
  
"we just  _ sold _ all the good stuff -- hey, wait a minute, i've got an idea --"   
  
diving behind the counter, cricket digs out a big jug of something and pops the cork off the top. jack looks on curiously. "what's that?"   
  
eager to share his newest concoction, cricket offers the jug to jack. "it's some new stuff i was experimentin' with -- c'mon, have a sip --"   
  
jack takes a swig from the jug and immediately sprays it out from between his teeth in disgust. "jesus, that tastes like piss!"   
  
cricket quickly takes the jug back, scowling indignantly. "i didn't say it was my best brew, jack, it's an  _ experiment." _   
  
suddenly jack has a brilliant idea. "cricket, i dare you to chug that whole thing."   
  
"aw, jack --"   
  
"c'mon, you're a  _ big scary outlaw _ now, remember? you can do it!"   
  
cricket looks apprehensively down at the jug in his hands, lips twisted and brows scrunched, until he makes his reluctant decision.   
  
"...alright, i guess i can give it a try."   
  
"go for it!" jack laughs as he shoves the jug toward his friend, splashing a couple drops on his face in the process. cricket licks his lips and raises the jug to them, taking a deep breath before he tips it back and begins to gulp down the nasty drink.   
  
"chug, chug, chug!" chants jack as he watches cricket's adam's apple bob wildly in his throat, following the movement of the booze down his gullet. it's a big jug, but cricket, never one to give up on something once he's started, doesn't stop drinking till it's empty. once he's swallowed the last drop he slams the jug down on the table next to him and slaps jack a high five as he jumps up and down giddily.    
  
"that was mighty impressive, crick --"   
  
cricket responds to the praise with a loud burp, then dissolves into giggles as jack laughs along.   
  
jack shoots a glance at the empty jug, jaw dropping in disbelief. "you really drank all that nasty stuff? what was in it?"   
  
"probably lead," cricket snorts, followed by a hiccup that he tries to stifle with a hand to his mouth.    
  
" _ lead _ \-- from the pipes?" jack gasps incredulously, now regretting his decision to try it at all, let alone make cricket drink it.   
  
"yeah, but i reckon it ain't enough to harm ya."   
  
jack shakes his head. "jesus, cricket.  _ jee-sus _ . you sure are  _ something." _   
  
"i --  _ hic _ \-- know."   
  
the smug look on cricket's face is replaced by one of annoyance as hiccup after hiccup jolts his body.   
  
"maybe you should sit down," jack suggests, and pulls up a chair for his friend.   
  
"yeah," cricket mumbles as he plops heavily down into the seat. jack notices his complexion's a little pale, almost a little green. his hands are shaking, too. "i'm feelin' a bit  _ sloshy _ ."   
  
jack's brow furrows in concern. "the taste didn't get to ya?" he couldn't even get down a single mouthful. he can't imagine what it must be like to have a whole  _ bellyful. _ __  
  
cricket squints up at him ruefully. "well it didn't taste --  _ hic _ \--  _ good _ ."   
  
he's starting to look more than a little queasy, so jack leans over and pats him on the shoulder. from where he stands a foot away he can hear a bubbling sound that he guesses is cricket's stomach gurgling, which is obviously cause for alarm.   
  
"...you  _ sure _ you're alright?"   
  
"i'm --" his speech is cut off by a hiccup that morphs into a very deep and unfortunate sounding burp. jack's brows shoot up. "do'ya need a bucket?"   
  
"i think --" cricket's hand flies up to cover his mouth as another sick burp escapes it. he elects to stop talking and just nod urgently. jack runs off to grab a bucket from behind the counter and thrusts it onto cricket's lap -- just in time, it seems, as the second cricket removes his hand from his mouth a whole flood of vomit comes splashing out. it's entirely liquid, watery and sticky where it clings to his lips and the sides of the bucket, and reeks like the godawful combination of stomach juice and alcohol it is. if the moonshine was nasty before, it's certainly much worse now.   
  
"oh,  _ god _ \--"   
  
jack goes almost as pale as cricket as he tears his hands off the bucket to avoid getting sprayed by the next round of vomit that splatters into it. cricket himself is not so lucky; his shaking limbs can barely keep the bucket still and he spills some of his own sick down the front of his shirt as he retches. a moment later jack reaches forward and sets the bucket on the floor instead, then helps cricket get on his knees over it so it's easier for him to vomit directly into it. crouched over the bucket with his hands gripping its sides, cricket shudders as he tries to contain the nausea that's making his stomach feel as tumultuous as a rickety car on a dirt road. he loses the battle and heaves up another wave of badly-brewed 'shine. jack looks on helplessly, feeling awfully guilty for encouraging cricket to drink it in the first place.   
  
a woman's voice breaks in on the chaos.   
  
"what in god's name is going on down here?"   
  
it's maggie, roused to wakefulness by the noise downstairs. jack turns frantically to look at her.    
  
"cricket drank a jug of rusty moonshine and now he's chuckin' up his supper!"   
  
blinking up at her hazily with a mouth dripping saliva and booze, cricket amends,   
  
"i don't even think i  _ had _ any supper..."   
  
"for goodness' sakes, cricket." maggie puts a hand over her mouth, then waves it at jack. "go get him a glass of water before he gets dehydrated."   
  
"yes ma'am --"   
  
jack runs off, leaving maggie alone with the boy hanging over the bucket on the floor. cricket smiles weakly up at her.   
  
"don't worry miss, i'll be fine. i feel a lot better now that i hacked it all up."   
  
he coughs again, then, and spits into the bucket, mumbling, "...well, maybe not all of it, yet."   
  
maggie sighs sympathetically. "let's at least get you out of them soiled clothes."   
  
with gentle hands she helps him slip his suspenders off his shoulders and remove his soaked shirt so that he's sitting there in nothing but his stained britches on the wood floor. goosepimples rise on his skin as maggie settles down next to him and runs a hand up and down his bumpy spine.   
  
"th-this is awful nice of you to do for me, miss," cricket stammers, and out of newfound nervousness or lingering nausea he bends forward to retch again. maggie tenderly pats his back to soothe him as he shudders and catches his breath. the bucket in his hands now contains enough liquid to fill the jug he'd drank from and then some. he feels downright miserable, but he wants to keep up an optimistic facade to reassure maggie, so he gives her another feeble smile. "i-i think that's the last of it. i feel mighty drained."   
  
"i just hope you learned your lesson," maggie tells him, and looks pointedly over her shoulder as jack re-enters the room with a glass in his hand. "jack, too."   
  
jack hands the glass to maggie so she can hold it for cricket, who takes small, grateful sips of it between shaky breaths.   
  
standing with his hand over his heart, jack replies: "y-yes ma'am, absolutely. no more chuggin' bad moonshine."   
  
maggie gives him a skeptical narrow of her eyes. "and no more daring  __ him to, either."   
  
"no ma'am, never."   
  
"thanks for helpin'," cricket adds, taking the glass in his own hand once he's stable enough not to spill it everywhere.   
  
after drawing her hand in one last circle on cricket's bare back, maggie rises and steps toward the doorway. "you boys get some sleep, now. you had a big day."   
  
cricket, wiping the sweat from his brow with one skinny wrist, gives her an enthusiastic nod. she starts to walk away but stops in the doorway to add:   
  
"make sure you drink all of that water, cricket. and get another glass when you're done just in case."   
  
"yes ma'am," both jack and cricket chime in unison, and maggie smiles at them before disappearing up the staircase.   
  
once she's left, jack helps cricket to his unsteady feet. with worry cramping his brows together, cricket whispers, "i sure hope your brother doesn't find out about this."   
  
"that you tossed up in his bucket or that his lady took your shirt off?"   
  
"i'd reckon he wouldn't want to hear about either thing."   
  
jack chuckles at that, and says, "c'mon, you can sleep in my room tonight. i aint want you drivin' like this."   
  
"don't think i could if i tried," cricket sighs, and follows his friend to his room for some much-needed rest.


End file.
